Dance With Destiny
by Inion na Hoice
Summary: When Aarien and Draco's paths collide, they are forever entangled in a dangerous tango of passion and darkness, love and betrayal. Can they overcome their fear and embrace their dance with destiny, or will it destroy them both? Please R&R...
1. Summary

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters brought to life by Ms. J.K. Rowling, nor do I lay claim to any movies, books, etc mentioned within this story, as they are copyright their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended. All I own is Aarien and the idea, plus any minor non-canon characters who may appear throughout.  
  
Author Note/Warning: This is a fan-fiction, meaning I have applied characters created by someone else to a fictional story of my own creation. This story contains elements of a mature nature, including but not isolated to sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and other topics which may not be suitable for all readers. Proceed with caution. If you're offended by this nature of writing, I suggest you take it up with your back button, not with me.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________ ________  
  
Aarien Jacobson has always known she was different, but she attributed it to her disregard for authority and passion to not get lost in the ever- churning sea of people. When an accidental discovery hands her a one-way ticket to a mysterious world, Aarien must learn to succeed on her own terms and distinguish her fantasies from harsh reality in order to survive.  
  
Draco Malfoy has always known that his sole duty, though not his desire, was to bring sinister glory to the Malfoy name, no matter the price. When his father's imprisonment in Azkaban hands him the opportunity of freedom, Draco must find within himself the will to deny the Dark Lord and trust in his own heart to prevail over the shadow that has dwelled in him so long.  
  
When their paths collide, they are forever entangled in a dangerous tango of passion and darkness, love and betrayal. Can they overcome their fear and embrace their dance with destiny, or will it destroy them both? 


	2. The Letters

Aarien yawned as she walked into the kitchen of her home, narrowly missing the island counter, and sat herself down at the family dining table on one of the cozy chairs. 

Spread over the table were a plate of eggs, a plate of toast and the morning post. Curiously, she leaned over the plates of food and pulled three envelopes, a circular and a small package off of the table just as her father was reaching for it.

Shuffling through the pile quickly, she found only one thing addressed to her and pulled it out, then handed over the stack to her father, Jack. 

She sat back down in her chair and examined the unusual looking envelope. It was yellowish, almost old looking and the fancy handwriting adorning the back side was written in an oddly colored green ink. On the front, a deep crimson wax seal held the flap of the envelope closed. Something has been pressed into the wax, but Aarien couldn't tell quite what it was.

Rereading the flowing letters, she confirmed that it was indeed addressed to her. In fact, it was addressed directly to her. Scanning over the words, she read aloud, "Aarien Jacobson, Celestial Bedroom on the 2nd Floor, 119 Gaither Drive, Wales." 

"What an odd letter," she thought to herself as she loosened the seal and flipped the envelope open. Reaching inside the envelope she found two piece of paper. Chancing a quick glance up, she noted that her father was submersed in a bill and her mother was busy fixing bacon to go with the food already laid out on the table.

Feeling confident she wasn't being watched, Aarien unfolded the letter and scanned over the graceful script that consumed the page:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

__

of WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Miss Jacobson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted

at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please

find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no

Later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

Aarien gave a small laugh and tossed the parchment paper onto the table beside her plate. A school for witchcraft and wizardry? What was this? A cruel joke? Glancing at the second sheet of paper, she shook her head and dropped it beside the letter. Robes? A cauldron? Spell books? Somebody had sure put a lot of effort into making this joke seem sincere.

"What's that honey?"

She glanced up at her mother who had brought the plate of bacon to the table and shrugged. "I'm not sure mum, probably just some stupid junk mail where they want me to mail off for Halloween costumes." Again she shrugged as she picked up the letter and promptly tore it in half.

A quick glance at the clock warned her that she was almost late for school. Groaning, she stood up and grabbed two pieces of toast, flopping an egg and two piece of bacon between them. Putting it between her teeth she mumbled to her mother, "Dwn wery but it…" 

Pushing her chair under the table, she ran over and hugged first her mother, then her father, then checking the clock again, dashed over to the door and picked up her schoolbooks. She hurried out the door before her parents could protest and jogged down to the street just in time to catch the bus, first making a stop by the trash can to drop the fragments of the letter inside.

As she stepped onto the bus, she glanced up at the sky just in time to see an owl swoop by. Shaking her head, she questioned the air, "I thought owls only came out at night? Maybe that one is really hungry or has insomnia or something."

Ignoring the weirdness of the situation, she made her way back to an empty seat and sat down, letting her books drop to the floor beside her feet. She couldn't wait to be 18 so she could drive herself everywhere instead of riding this awful bus.

Leaning back into her seat, she felt a gentle crunch beneath her. Reaching underneath herself, she pulled out a crumpled envelope that matched the one she had just thrown away at home, but this time it was addressed differently: Aarien Jacobson, Seat 12, Bus 4, Wales.

Her eyes widened as she felt a shiver race down her back. Who was sending these letters? Without even bothering to open it, she pulled the window down just slightly and held the letter out into the morning breeze and let go. Cutting her eyes so she could look behind the bus, she saw the envelope twirl in the wind for a moment before settling on the sidewalk.

"How weird," she thought aloud.

As the bus neared her destination, she gently tugged on the notice cord and soon, the bus slowed to a gentle stop outside the front of her school. Gathering her books from the floor, she hurriedly made her way to the front and dropped her fare into the box, then stepped off the bus just in time to hear the bell ring. 

"Funness," she mumbled as she quickened her pace along the worn sidewalk, "At least I'm not late…yet."

Slipping inside the front doors, she waded through the sea of people lining the hallway, stopping in front of her locker. Quickly putting in the combination, she opened it and crammed her books inside, pulling out the ones she needed for her first classes. Lodged between the pages of her Geography book was another letter, this time addressed: Aarien Jacobson, Locker 412, Wales High School, Wales.

Her eyes widened and she quickly stuffed it down into her pocket. Something really strange was happening, but she couldn't quite place what. If this WAS a joke, somebody was going to a lot of trouble to scare her. If it wasn't, well, she didn't want to think about that. She did NOT need a stalker.

Slamming the door to her locker shut, she fought her way back across the hallway and stepped inside her Calculus class just as the tardy bell rang. Skulking over to her seat, she situated herself for another hour of spacing out and napping, but for some reason, she was wide awake.

Reaching her hand into her pocket, she pulled out the letter again and turned it over several times in her hands. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she opened it and read over the fine script again. It was exactly the same except for a line written after the signature of Minerva McGonagall, whoever that was. The line read, "P.S. Don't rip this one up or throw it out of a window."

Feeling another cold shiver embrace her body, Aarien shoved the letter, along with another supplies list into her pocket as she heard her teacher, Mrs. Yearly announce to the class, "Your final will take place tomorrow morning. Please be aware that it will cover everything through Chapter 12, including imaginary numbers. However, I am not confident all of you grasp the concept, so that is what we will work on today.

Miss Jacobson, would you please come to the front and work number 6 from page 431 on the board please?"

Sighing, Aarien forced herself out of her seat and she slowly made her way up to the front. Grabbing the chalk from the tray under the blackboard, she muttered, "I swear if this things writes my exact location, I am out of here…"


	3. Contemplation

Rubbing sleep from his tired eyes, Draco treaded quietly into the dining room. Grunting softly as a distant rumble shook the cracked windows, he scanned the room for any sign of movement. Upon recognizing the emptiness that, as of late, so often filled the barren room, he noted, "Looks like mother is off gallivanting around with her socialite ninnies again."   
  
Not that he particularly cared, for he preferred to be alone. In the ten years of his life he could clearly remember, it had seemed that whenever she had taken time from her busy schedule to acknowledge him, it had been to nit-pick his very existence and remind him of the thousands of ways he could potentially screw up.  
  
At least his father had entrusted Draco to make his own decisions, even if they were often forced with an iron fist. Though never truly allowed to act on his own behalf, Draco had come to find it was easier to obey his father than to argue. And so, for fifteen years Draco had been his father's puppet, quietly doing everything asked of him without question.  
  
Only recently had he begun to truly challenge his father's wisdom. It had, after all, been this wisdom that had landed his father a permanent vacation in Azkaban prison. Though free from dominance of his father, Draco still felt uneasy going against his father's wishes. It would only take an uprising from the Dark Lord to set the Death-Eaters free and upon his father's return, Draco knew things would return to the way they had been his entire life.  
  
Pulling the heavy wooden chair from under the head of the old table, he sat down, leaning back and propping his feet across the worn edge. Though he knew the punishment would be severe if he were to be caught in his father's seat of prominence, the current circumstances eased his fears, if only slightly.  
  
It had been four months since his father had been imprisoned and still no word of an attempted or successful escape. And he would have been among the first to know. Even before The Daily Prophet could print the first word, Lucius would have contacted him, if not already returned to the manor.   
  
Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander into deep contemplation as the weather outside continued to worsen. His thoughts strayed through his memories - from the first day he had met that awful Potter to even the last day he had spent at Hogwarts this past school year.   
  
Even though he was the son of one of the most powerful Death-Eaters to swear allegiance to Voldemort, Draco could still remember the fear that had washed over him the last months of the Spring term… he could still feel it.  
  
"Rap! Tap! Tap!'  
  
Jarred suddenly from his thoughts, Draco sat straight up, his heart thudding loudly against his chest. Turning his gaze to the window, a flood of relief washed over him as he realized the sound had been made by the his owl, Egola.   
  
Un-situating himself from the chair, he trod over to the window and opened it further. A grateful Egola hopped in through the opening and pecked his hand. As he reached for her leg, she began to groom her matted feathers with her raven colored beak. After unfastening the letter from her leg, he reached into the pocket of his robe and produced a small treat.   
  
Egola snatched the treat hastily and retreated through the dining room to her perch. Slamming the window shut, Draco complained, "Honestly, why does Mother even bother to pretend she knows what she's doing? If she wanted to leave it open for the owl, she should have opened it wide enough! And if it wasn't for the owl, what the bloody hell was it for?"  
  
Tearing away the string that bound the letter tightly, he smirked. The familiar envelope was addressed, "Draco Malfoy, Father's Chair, 8799 Ridgeway Ave, Leeds." Thinking aloud to the emptiness, he mused, "You know, it still amazes me how he knows where every bloody student is at every moment."  
  
Ripping open the envelope, Draco began to scour over the supplies list he would be needing for his next year at Hogwarts: More books than he cared to know about, more vials, more this, more that…more, more, more. Tossing it aside, he sighed disappointedly - nothing new this year.  
  
"Oh well," he thought, "at least mommy-dearest will realize I'm still alive when we go to Diago-" Trailing off, Draco's eyes lit up with a plan. "Hmm… unless I don't tell her and go about getting everything on my own. Surely she would never miss me and maybe this time I can actually say what I'd like to Potter…"  
  
A slight shiver coursed through Draco's body at the mere thought of running into Potty and those sorry excuses for witches and wizards he called friends. Honestly! Someone with his potential should have been in Slytherin. "Just think of the great and terrible things we could have done together!"  
  
As far as Draco was concerned, Potter was wasting his time trying to defeat the Dark Lord, for in his own heart he knew Voldemort's power lay predominantly in name alone and the constant fear spread among the wizarding world only gave Voldemort the authority needed to return. And Voldemort's return was the last thing Draco needed, for it would give his father full unadulterated domain over his every move, his every action, his every thought…  
  
Draco knew that only time and Potter's defeat stood between Voldemort, and in turn his father, and the total control they so desired. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, Draco could feel the hunger for power coursing through his veins. Glancing at a large mirror that adorned the wall, Draco sighed. He could practically see his father staring back at him.  
  
"No," he corrected himself, " I am nothing like father…"   
  
Realizing that for the first time in his life, he had defied his father, Draco's eyes widened slightly, expecting one of his father's cohorts - the only reason fear still brewed in Draco's heart - to appear and put him in his place.  
  
After several moments of tense silence, Draco let out a sharp gasp of air as a loud POP sounded behind him. Dropping his letter to the ground, Draco whipped around and found himself face to face with…  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
  


	4. Hidden Gifts

Aarien spent the rest of the day peeking around corners and checking her books for mysterious letters, but none came. Feeling a little less paranoid by the time her last class rolled around, she walked in like she owned the place, noisily taking her seat in the front row.  
  
As the other students filed in and took their seats, Aarien realized that their teacher wasn't there. "Odd," she mused aloud as she looked around the classroom. No, there was absolutely no sign of her teacher.  
  
"Either I'm not the only one playing Misson: Impossible, or she's sick."  
  
Aarien's observation was soon confirmed as a tall, thin woman strode into the classroom. She stood at least three inches taller than Aarien, and her stern face was highlighted by dark black hair pulled into a tight bun. Though she looked rather, well, mean, there was nothing too out of the ordinary about her… except for those flowing crimson robes she wore over a black, unfitted dress. Both swept the floor around her ankles and gave her the appearance that she was almost floating in mid-air.  
  
Shuddering slightly with a sudden chill, Aarien allowed her eyes to follow the woman and she made her way to the front of the classroom. This was going to be their history substitute teacher?   
  
Aarien gulped as she sat up straighter in her seat, suddenly wishing she had slipped quietly into one of the back seats. From where she was sitting, the teacher could easily watch her and keep her from sleeping, or worse, call on her to answer something from the textbook she hadn't read.  
  
"Great," she muttered, "what a wonderful day to have not done my homework. If she calls on me, I'm gonna look like an idiot."  
  
She sighed as she flipped the book open to the pages they were supposed to have read the night before and began to skim over them, retaining as much information as possible without actually reading it. It wasn't that she was a bad student, in fact, she made mostly A's and B's, it was just that around Fridays, she got into periods of laziness where she wouldn't do anything school-related, and then play catch-up over the weekend.  
  
Just as she was scanning the bottom of the third page she was supposed to have already read, the substitute teacher spoke up, "Hello class, I will be covering for Mrs. Heath today as she had a family emergency and was unable to make it to your school today. I normally teach at another school, but I have been called here as a special favor to someone. I expect you should know you were supposed to have read chapter 23 last night and were supposed to be prepared for a quiz today, so please put away your books and take out a piece of paper and a pen."  
  
Aarien slumped slightly and continued to scan the pages as she reached onto the floor beside her to pull a piece of paper free from a notebook. Still keeping her eyes glued to the page, she fumbled her hand around on the floor until she felt her pen and wrapped her hand around it, picking it up and dropping it onto the desk. Begrudgingly, she closed her book and dropped it the floor beside her desk, wincing slightly as it made a very loud "thud," on the tile.  
  
She blushed sheepishly as the teacher gazed at her with a disapproving look on her face. Aarien breathed a slight sigh of relief as the teacher simply shook her head and turned to the desk, picking up a stack of papers off of it.  
  
The teacher strode through the aisles of desks, laying a piece of paper on each without so much as cracking a smile. Once everyone had a paper on their desk, the teacher announced, "By the way, my name is Professor McGonagall if you need anything. You have until the end of the period to complete the quiz and your final will be tomorrow. Begin."  
  
Aarien worked through the first six questions easily, regurgitating the answers from what she had just read, but as she reached number 7, she realized the quiz had gone beyond what she'd had a chance to read. Now she would have no choice but to resort to guessing, unless - A grin spread across her face. Yes, that is what she would do. When that Professor McGoney, McGongale, whatever her name was, wasn't looking, Aarien slid her book up to in front of her desk a little bit with her foot.  
  
Checking to make sure she still wasn't watching, Aarien muttered under her breath, "Invisiblus Covrai." As if it were magic, the cover of her book as well as every page up until the one she needed were now transparent, allowing her to read every word crystal clearly. She smiled to herself and worked on finishing her test, every so often mumbling another page number under her breath.  
  
She didn't want to get caught cheating, but the smile on her face was clearly visible from anywhere in the room. This was just too easy. She had figured it out on accident one day last semester in a situation similar to her current one. She had just started muttering random phrases she knew wouldn't work to help her cheat her way through the test and one, "Invisblus Covrai" had actually worked.  
  
As Aarien neared the end of the test, she heard a very thin, stern voice, "Miss Jacobson! I would like to speak with you."  
  
Her shoulders fell and she turned her concentration away from the book. Instantly, the cover returned to normal. Aarien looked up to see the substitute teacher standing beside her desk with her hands firmly on her hips. The teacher's eyes were glued to the book. She couldn't have known, could she? Nobody else had ever acted like they could see what was happening to the book…  
  
Keeping her eyes on the floor, Aarien quietly slipped out of her desk and followed the professor out to the hallway, dragging her feet. Never before had she so dreaded speaking with a teacher. Usually she remained on their good sides, so they had little reason to scold her, but she could feel this one coming. She just had a feeling that the stern woman knew she had done something to the book.  
  
As the teacher shut the door to the classroom behind them, she spoke, "Miss Jacobson, I must say I am indeed surprised in your behavior-"  
  
Cutting off the teacher, Aarien quickly tried to explain herself, "I… I'm sorry! I didn't get a chance to read it last night and I thought, well, I didn't think anybody would know and I did know some of it! I didn't…I didn't mean to cheat!"  
  
For the first time in nearly an hour, the stern woman cracked a very slightly smile, putting her hand gently on Aarien's shoulder, "Relax dear, I am not going to yell at you or reprimand you."  
  
"But-…you said you were surprised by my behavior!"  
  
The woman nodded, "I said I was surprised, not disappointed." The smile grew slightly wider, even allowing her teeth to just barely show. "I didn't expect to see you using magic."  
  
Aarien stood there dumbfounded, giving the woman a look that clearly spelled confusion. Shaking her head, the woman sighed, "You really haven't been told anything, have you? I thought Dumbledore was exaggerating."   
  
"Dumbledore? Who?" Aarien felt a creepy sensation overtake her. Her eyes widened as she realized she remembered that name… and McGonagall too. Those names were on those mysterious letters she had found all morning.   
  
The woman sighed and fished inside the folds of her robes for something, pulling out what looked like a baseball card. She handed the card over to Aarien, who looked at it as if it might bite her, "What is this?"  
  
McGonagall sighed, shaking her head, "Yes, I see we have a lot of work to do. That, my dear, is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
Aarien looked up from the card at the woman accusingly, "So it was YOU! You know, it's pretty cruel to play a joke like that. You had me believing in that mess for a moment! I'm just 16 and my mind is still moldable to a point, you shouldn't do stuff like this to a girl who has enough on her mind with finals coming up and everything!"  
  
The woman took a step back from Aarien, obviously surprised by her outburst. Finding her voice, she shook her head, "My dear, I am afraid this is no joke. This is a very serious matter."  
  
Aarien laughed unbelievingly at the woman, "Right… this is all real. And let me guess, you came here to explain to me how you got those letters in my locker and on the bus, and how you knew where I would be, right? Oh, and let me guess… you're also here to explain everything to me because you KNOW I don't believe you and you want to convince me that you're not crazy and that there really is some school to teach wackos how to flick a wand at things and make them move or turn into something else, right?"  
  
McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she eyed Aarien curiously, but she didn't dare interrupt her.  
  
When she got no response out of the woman, Aarien rolled her eyes and continued, "Oh this is crazy! And I thought my parents were weird. Agh! I knew I should stayed home from school today! This is nuts! I am officially going crazy…"  
  
Trying to conceal a smile, McGonagall shook her head, "No dear, I am afraid you are not going crazy. This is all very real, and unfortunately, at the present time, very dangerous to you, which is why we have contacted you against your parents' will."  
  
Aarien flung both arms up into air with a flair. This was all some very crazy story…so crazy that she almost believed the woman. After all, how could someone so stern come up with something THIS crazy? Still, something didn't add up. Her parents couldn't be involved… it just wasn't like them. "Whoa lady… I don't know WHAT you are talking about, but my parents have something to do with this?"  
  
McGonagall nodded slightly, "Well, if you will stop waving your arms around like a duck and actually try to listen to what I am telling you, you would understand it better. And I do suggest that we discuss this elsewhere."  
  
As the woman said this, the bell signaling the end of the day rang and students began filing noisily out of classrooms. Aarien turned her attention back to where the woman was- well, had been standing. Looking around, she could find no sign of the woman, save a small note on the ground.  
  
Picking up the piece of paper timidly, Aarien skimmed over the words: "I know this seems like too much to handle, but speak with your parents when you arrive home. They may seem unwilling at first to speak with you, but persist. You need to be informed of what they haven't told you and they know it. - Professor McGonagall." 


End file.
